


Youth

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Innocence, One Shot, Silly kids being silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On break between their final two years of high school, Hawke and Fenris talk about the future over some candies and kisses- or, at least, tries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Youth

**Author's Note:**

> Written because this idea has plagued me for a while (ever since I listened to supercell again and got reminded of 1. my weeb heart and 2. my own stupid dating adventures. lol) I managed to keep it under 1k! What a miracle. 
> 
> Also written because I needed to see these two just being silly and happy for a while before they have to grow up. 
> 
> Suggested listening (all the funky supercell i was listening to while writing this): 
> 
> Aozora: www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLg1cNUtbP8  
> Kare: www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Z0-A40fBNY  
> Kokuhaku: www.youtube.com/watch?v=gdO2BdSZeog   
> Kimi no Shiranai Monogatari: www.youtube.com/watch?v=cI4dOUQ1xaU

“What are you going to do after high school?” The boy asks, sitting next to Hawke on the oval, his posture appalling as usual. A pile of assorted candies and lollies laid next to them, a memento from the successes of the Halloween event that Hawke had almost forgotten about.

 

A perfectly logical question, she supposes. It _is_ their final year, and it’s about time to think about the future and what they want to do, blah blah blah, perfectly logical and _boring._ Fenris is fantastic at being perfectly logical, but at times he fails to grasp a lovely, sprightly summer day by its tail.

 

The sky is almost dauntingly blue, not a speck of white can be seen. Hawke rolls onto her back, squinting against the bright sunlight as she stares up at the pure azure. A breeze drifts sluggishly past. She sighs loudly.

 

“Become a trophy wife, I suppose,” she says, then unwraps and shoves a lollipop into her mouth. “Birth eight kids, and make my mother happy. All that jazz.”

 

Fenris casts a shadow as he leans over her, his school shirt rolled up to his elbows, his eyes even greener than usual against his cloudless backdrop.

 

“And what will you do,” he inquires, his voice dropping lower and quieter, almost drowned out by the sound of cicadas, “after you birth all eight of your children?”

 

Hawke smirks back at him, a foolishly intrepid grin on her face. “I could always do some light reading. If that doesn’t work as a distraction from the kids, I’ll drink myself into a stupor. Why do you ask, Fenris?” She reaches up and glides her slender fingers through his fringe- it’s getting long, she thinks, but doesn’t mind-

 

He grasps her wrist and holds it there, his other hand tugging slightly on the end of her lollipop. She frowns, then sees the smile in his eyes, the quirk in his brows.

 

“You’re very distracting, you know that, Hawke?” Hawke laughs, releasing the candy from her teeth, and the boy’s (almost _man_ , she reminds herself) shoulders shake with hers in a bemused snigger. Without looking away, he bites the remainder of the lollipop off its stick, crunches it and swallows. _In retribution_ , Hawke speculates.

 

Hawke’s face straighten into her school rep style sincerity, and she tells Fenris with a gentle tilt of her head, “tremendously sorry about that. Can I interest you in a packet of candy corn? Or perhaps you will enjoy our fine selection of gummy bears-”

 

He quiets her by holding her own hand over her lips. Hawke raises an eyebrow, but waits for him to speak.

 

“From a mere exchange student to being on the student council… To eating junk on the school oval on weekends. You lead me to strange places, Hawke.”

 

Her smug smirk softens, suddenly overwhelmed by the tender gratitude in his eyes. _I did nothing_ , she wants to say. _You’re stronger than you think._

 

She settles for removing his hand on her lips and placing it against her calm heartbeats. His endless emerald greens reflect in her eyes as Hawke looks at Fenris, and with _real_ earnestness this time, she tells him: “I’ll lead you to stranger places. Just you wait.”

 

Fenris smiles- _a beautiful smile,_ she thinks- and leans his forehead against hers. A wind brushes over them, and Hawke’s eyes flutter shut.

 

“I believe you,” he murmurs.

 

Hawke’s hand find his shoulders, her thumb tracing and memorising his muscles and bones. “Kiss me,” she asks, and Fenris obliges. His lips are soft as they slant over hers, tasting of strawberry candy and faint peppermint. Hawke’s hands reach around his head, threading through his hair with feather-light touch, then down the column of his neck until her fingers meet his collar. The kiss deepens with the slightest brush of tongue and Fenris’ knuckle grazes her chin tenderly, holding her right there against him. She breathes, then steals a glance at him from under her eyelashes. A blush dusts his cheeks, his dark eyebrows furrow faintly above his crinkled shut eyes.

 

Fenris is _magnificent._ She tells him that, between breaths and blinks. He smiles again, and Hawke loves him.

 

The boy rolls onto his back, shifting so that their shoulders touch. Tentatively, he intertwines their fingers. Hawke turns her head to him, grins and gives him a reassuring squeeze. A veil of quiet settles over them.

 

“What will you do, Fenris?” she asks him in a whisper. He turns his head to meet her curious gaze.

 

“Father eight children,” he says. She flicks his forehead.

 

“Wrong answer? Hm,” his hand comes up to his chin, frowning a little. “What about collecting scarves and pants? Not any other pieces of clothing, mind you- _just_ scarves and pants-”

 

“ _Fenris!_ ” The laughter rings through Hawke now, and Fenris is reminded of chiming bells.

 

“That was _one time,_ Fenris.” His eyebrows raise.

 

“It was _every_ time, Hawke,” he retorts, and gets another flick to the forehead. He relents and tells her honestly, “I’m not sure, Hawke.”

 

“The perfectly logical thing to do would be to do my degree in languages, and maybe something else,” Fenris offers uncertainly, each word a mere afterthought to the one before. Hawke cushions her arms and head on his chest, eyes hooded over as she listens.

 

“So what’s stopping you?” Hawke questions. He pushes himself up on his elbows, then rests his head without a word onto the girl’s shoulders.

 

His calloused fingertips kiss her temples briefly before they push her fringe back behind her ears. Fenris cups her ear, tells her a secret: “I don’t care about the perfectly logical thing to do when I’m with you.”

 

She snorts. “I’m a bad influence, then?”

 

He kisses her on the neck, and she tilts her head to one side with a whist gasp, feels his lips pull into smile against her warm skin-

 

“Au contraire, Hawke.”


End file.
